The *mostly* perfect Mother's Day.

I am woken by Dani and Tori, stuffed animals in tow, asking to snuggle.  They climb into our bed around 7am, and hug, and hop, bounce around.  After a few minutes, I step into the bathroom to brush my teeth.  Tori sneaks in, "Happy Mother's Day!" she exclaims.  I come back into the bedroom and there are presents, lots of them, wrapped in Christmas wrap, which seems to be a trend in our house.  Dani has decorated a card, filled with pictures of people; when asked, she tells me, "This is you teaching me ballet, Mommy."

Daddy takes the trio downstairs, and I fall back to sleep.  I wake at 9:30--as a mother of toddlers, this is an all too rare luxury.  I head downstairs to check in--we all have some cereal, and I head to the shower.  We have plans.  Big plans. Stupidly risky plans.  We are taking three toddlers to a fancy restaurant for brunch.  We get dressed, do hair, Big Man sports a suit and tie.  He tells me I look pretty in my dress.

We arrive--head to our table.  I fix a pair of plates for the girls, while Big Man sits with Tommy.  As I head to fix my own, I look over at the table, all is well.  When I return, Dani says, "I don't like this, Momm-ARRRRRRGH" and she starts to puke.  Thankfully she had the linen napkin on her lap.  I catch most of it in my hands and the napkin, and a fair amount lands on her dress. No one seems to notice in those fleeting minutes. As the staff (and owner) notice I am cleaning, they ask if everything is okay.  Big Man assures them it's no reflection on the food, as I bring Dani to the Ladies room.  We rinse her dress off, wash up and are as good as new.  The table now has a pink cloth napkin at her place and all is well.  My plate of food is cold, but we're staying! 

Mother's Day Brunch, Take 2.

 

 Tommy masters the fork, and, thankfully, doesn't play the spoon/fork/plate banging game too loudly.

Tori sits like a little lady, drinking her orange juice from a tea cup.  Dani does the same.

 Tommy starts to get antsy so we head outside for some photos.  Tori is determined to clown around in every pic.

 When we could catch Tommy, he smiled and was a handsome little dude.

 Catching the three of them?  No way.  Between Tommy's need to move, and Tori's constipated face, we were doomed.

 They did slightly better when they posed with Daddy.

 This was us, headed back to the car.  Tommy was leading the charge.

 Daddy and Dani paused for a photo.

It really was a lovely day. 

 

And, I need to make a shout out to my mom.  I had a childhood full of love and creativity.  It was filled with playgrounds and beaches and adventures of all sorts.  Of songs, and stories, and unwavering love.  There were "tiger hunts" through the reeds at the beach (long before the universe was tick-paranoid) fresh air, and picnics, and just so much fun.  I am the mom that I am because of the mom that I had, and I very often think that I'm not doing it as well as she did.  Because she was awesome.  And now, she is showing that same love to my children--on the floor with them, bouncing on the beds, in the wagon to the park, and non-stop never-ending fun.  Love you Mom!

Because it's silly, silly, silly, silly, silly, silly time!

We had a zany weekend!  I spent the week and a fair chunk of the weekend moving my law office.  The kids definitely have spring fever!

It's so awesome to see how much fun they have together!

 They are loving the warm weather, and playing outside.  And running around like crazy monkeys inside!

 And Tori, who lately won't look at the camera, was quite the ham.

Tonight, when we were watching a bedtime show, she saw two characters, and remarked, "It's his best friend."  So, I asked Tori who her best friend was.  (No cute answer like it's you mommy). 

She replied, "The other Tori."

Daddy asked, "Is that the naughty Tori?"

Tori neither confirmed nor denied.

 Tommy is now nearly as big as Tori, and is totally ready to rumble with the girls.

 Bethany junior Dani is busy tattling on all of them, and being insanely jealous of any little attention they get.

Oh, and did I mention, I picked up the pre-kindergarten enrollment packet for her today.

Pre-K?

Pre-K?

Where does the time go?

 The kids were all sitting together Saturday sharing a bowl of popcorn and being silly.  Tommy kept demanding a "bite bite" and Dani would feed him.  Adorbs!

Took the girls to the new office on Sunday so they could see that there's a playroom there!  New office has as much square footage as my damn house, so I figured it was time for them to have a spot to themselves there!

Where does the time go?

 Our sweet little Tori turned three yesterday.  Three!  I swear, just a few minutes ago she was a wriggly little baby.  A quiet, easy, little baby.  Wow, that didn't last long!

She's our little free spirit.  So often silly, and almost as often mischevious.  When things get quiet, it's not because she's behaving, but because she's getting into something.  And she's just so hard to get angry at, because she is just. so. damn. cute.  It's those eyes.  Those big brown eyes that make you melt a little bit inside when you look at her.  She's the kid that strangers stop you to tell you that she is just precious and adorable.  Because she is.

She can throw a tantrum like nobody's business.  Wailing and flailing like the world is coming to an end.  But as she grew closer to three, she grew closer to the ability to reason.  When you explain the whys to her and tell her how she should be acting, she understands.  She doesn't always like it, and doesn't always do it, but she understands.  And for the zany, middle child, who is always going a mile a minute, she will surprise you with how much she knows, how much she understands.

She knows her letters and numbers to count and by sight.  And big numbers--she will hold up her Urlacher jersey and say, "I'm fifty-four, Mommy."  She will dance around and tell you she has a pelvis, and a patella, and a cranium, and point to them in turn.  She's learning about the body with our leap books, and will wiggle her fingers and tell you they are phalanges.  And, it typical toddler (silly) fashion, she describes what she learned about the digestive system...the food goes in my mouth to my BOOTY!

She's pretty much potty trained, because the reward of playing on Mommy's tablet is incentive enough to get it done. 

Adventurous in every way--from her love of broccoli, "ninos"  (tomatoes) and every fruit and veggie imaginable--to leaping in the pool, jumping on the bed, and never letting discretion be the better part of valor.

If she wakes up in the middle of the night, she ends up in my bed.  But unlike her big sister, who is happy with her own pillow and her own space, Tori insists on sharing my pillow, on snuggling so closely to me that I can feel her breathe on me.  As she starts to fall back to sleep, her arm always reaches around me as she snuggles up tight. 

Everything Tori does, she does intensely.

And her little brother adores her.

We all do. 

 For years, I've been close to an old Italian man--he's in many ways like a great grandfather to me. I bring the girls to see him every few weeks.  His name for Tori is "estrella", for star.

How fitting.  Our Tori is a star, a shooting star, bright and blazing, grabbing our attention and filling our lives with light.

And she's been doing it for three years.

Three years.

Love you, Tori.

 

Goal: Torture Mommy. Achieved.

Place:  McGhee house

Parties:  Dani, Tori and Tommy

Mission: Torture Mommy.

Result:  Success

Wow, it was a rough night.  Wes left a cold beer in the fridge.  It's like he knew it would be.

 

Most Mondays, I am home by 4:30 so Wes can get some sleep.  He works the overnight, and I do my best to get home so he can be sleeping by 5pm.  Tonight was no different, except, I was on time! (Too often my 4:30pm goal is more like 4:45 or even 5pm).  I was walking in the door by 4:30.  Wes and the kids were upstairs, as Tori was getting up from her nap.  "How perfect," I thought, as I walked upstairs, planning to change out of my work clothes and let Wes just stay upstairs to go to sleep.

 

I change and bring the kids downstairs.  Wes mentioned that Tommy may be getting hungry, so I head to the kitchen to figure out what to feed him.  I pull out items to make for dinner.  A minute later, I pop out of the kitchen to see what the kids are doing.  Tommy apparently swiped a bottle of nonpareils from the lazy susan when I was looking in the fridge--and he has emptied it all over the little tykes table and the foyer floor.  (Did I mention our house was cleaned today?)  His bib, and hands are covered with dots. I groan and walk back to the kitchen to get the hand broom and dust pan.  Hearing my dismay, Dani and Tori notice and run to the table, and start to try to lick the tasty candy dots.  Dani gags on a mouthful of dots and proceeds to take three steps and puke on the floor.  Now, I've got a pile of puke and 400,000 tiny candy balls on the floor.  I race to the kitchen to get paper towels, yelling to Tommy to stay still, so he doesn't walk through the puke.  I come back with paper towels and bend over to clean up the mess.  Tommy, seeing an opportunity, sneaks into the bathroom to splash in the toilet.  Puke cleaned, I look around and hear him.  Scoop him up, scold him, and scrub his hands.  Realize Wes said he was hungry.  Give him a large squeezable toddler pouch.  Re-evaluate the situation.  Decide the nonpariels on the floor need to be vacuumed, so grab the vacuum from the mudroom and plug it in.  Turn it on and hear Tommy wail in terror (despite the fact that the house was vacuumed today--perhaps it was his shock from seeing Mommy vacuum).  Decide he can cry all he wants, as the candy balls need to be removed.  Tommy sprints into the foyer and dining room screaming bloody murder, while squeezing his pouch and spraying the walls with blueberry-carrot goo.  Wes comes back downstairs (sorry honey) to see why, after only 15 minutes alone with the kids, there is so much commotion.  Sometimes I think he enjoys my parenting fails.  He helps by picking up Tommy and pointing out spots of goo that I missed while attempting to clean.  All is quiet for a few minutes, he heads back upstairs to sleep.

 

Now, everyone is hungry.  Tommy finishes his fruit squeezer, and Tori has one and finishes it.  Dani asks for one and I bring it into the playroom.  Tommy decides he wants that one too, and when Dani won't give it up he makes a fist and swings, connecting solidly with my right eye.  I see stars.  I get teary as I bend over in pain.  Dani starts to cry, because she thinks I am sad.  Tori starts to cry because Dani is crying.  Tommy is still crying because he's pissed that Dani has applesauce.  I flush my eye with saline (but may have a shiner tomorrow) and head to the kitchen to start to cook them dinner.

 

And how was YOUR night?

Four Generations

We took a recent road trip to Connecticut to see my soon-to-be 93 year old grandmother.  My mom had flown in to spend the week with her.  Nearly all of my Connecticut family came to visit that day, and the kids had a blast.

 Grandma was the champion bubble blower.

 Dani and Tori had made macaroni necklaces for the Grandmas, which they wore with pride.

 Tommy rockin' with his bubble microphone!

 Four generations of my family. 

 Great-grandma's house has the best stairs for sliding down!  The kids bounced down on their butts, slid down on their tummies, and had a blast.  Todd and I used to do the same thing when we were little.

 Grandma brought magic finger paints.

 And Tommy charmed the pants off of everyone!

It's so nice that my kids get to have a relationship with a great-grandparent.  I remember my great-grandpa from when I was small.  Great Grandpa Haschak lived with my grandma and grandpa until he was almost 100.  At least I think he was that old--it seems like he was, but when you are under ten, it's hard to really judge.  I remember we would go visit, and he would always be watching baseball at an incredible volume.  "HI GREAT GRANDPA!" we'd yell, and we'd sit in the room for a bit until our need to explore the house took held.  He'd always call us close for a hug, and give us a dollar.  Every time.  Despite his limited mobility, he always had dollar bills in his pockets to give to us, perhaps as a reward for keeping him company, or just to let us know he was happy we came.  And now, thirty plus years later, my children are coming back to the same house, to see their 90-something great grandmother.  The house is the same as it was when I was small.  Filled with books, trinkets, and mementos, like the home of every little old lady.  Filled also, to my children's delight, with cookies and treats, and dozens of pictures of them at all ages, and even some of their mommy when she was little.  And my frail, elderly grandma was full of hugs, and was showered with toddler love for a day, and I got to witness it, and it was wonderful.

Spring has sprung.

No time to post much as SPRING HAS SPRUNG!

  It's warm, there's no snow on the ground and the kids want to be outside!

This will be Tommy's first real summer where he can walk around and enjoy it.

It was a beautiful day Saturday, and we took the kids out to play--running and blowing bubbles, riding bikes and sliding on slides--it was like there was 4 months of outdoor energy that had been trapped since Christmastime.  They had a blast.

 Tori made it her goal to pop every bubble Dani blew.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 And then it was Easter.

 Another failed attempt at a family photo!  Took a dozen--this was the best!

 We had a big ol' Easter egg hunt today.  I took the girls to one in the city yesterday, and it was mayhem.  Kids of all ages running and swooping in to grab eggs.  Dani and Tori each got 2; and that was with me, literally standing over each one so they could pick it up. I didn't care if they got a lot--but they needed something!

 Today, we had about 50 eggs, just for the three kids.  Much to Dani and Tori's delight, Tommy had only a passing interest at egg hunting.

 He did, however, just rock his awesome white trashy tuxedo tee!

Happy spring!  Happy Easter!

Dem bones.

Wow, there's a whole lot of learning going on in this house.  We've got these Leap Books, with a Leap Pen that the kids can use to point to words and pictures, and letters, etc.

One of the books has a section on the body, and Dani and Tori love to point to the bones on the skeleton.  And I went on youtube to let them hear the "Dem bones" song, and now it's the theme song of the week.

Tonight at dinner, Tori told me that when she grows up she wants to be a skeleton.

She is also known for saying, "I have a PELVIS!" "I have two patellas!"

Both Dani and Tori are happy to point out where their scapulas are, and are well-versed in metatarsals and metacarpals (and that's more than I know!)

Tonight, while skyping with my parents, Tori told them that she had phalanges.  When grandma and grandpa asked what those were (and I had no flipping clue) she wiggled her fingers to the camera and said "here".  The kid is not quite 3, won't poop on the potty, but knows the skeletal system better than I do.  It's adorable, but in a way where you start to wonder if you are turning your kids into little nerdies who will be teased mercilessly in kindergarten maybe not letting them watch enough Spongebob.

 

 Tommy is turning out to be the best mimic ever.  He repeats everything anyone says. He is really musical--can baby mumble sing the words to songs in perfect pitch.  It's really pretty awesome.  We've got to bank on some kind of artistic or athletic talent with that one--he's eaten more board books than he's read.

Dani asked me tonight if she could stay up all night, because last night she had bad dreams.  She came into my room at 1:30am literally shaking.  I had to turn on lights and she flipped when I left her in the well-lit bathroom to get a fresh underjam for her (ain't noone peeing in mommy's bed).  And then we had a mommy half asleep discussion about whether dinosaurs could hurt us, and I literally was teary and begging promised her there were no dinosaurs in mommy's bed and she went to sleep. I told her that she was going to sleep on Daddy's pillow and that always means good dreams. She was so resistent to sleep tonight--but in the eldest child, compliant way.  She went upstairs, we brushed and washed, and she pleaded to stay up, knowing full well she would get into bed when I told her to.  Then she begged for Daddy's pillow because it was the good dreams pillow (but Big Man was sleeping as he works tonight!).  Hmmmm, what to do.  I went into my dressing room and got out an old bracelet, a costumey one with stones.  After I turned off the light, I put it on her wrist and told her it was Mommy's good dreams bracelet, and that it would help her to have good dreams tonight...she was in awe.  I whispered, "Don't tell Tori because I only have one.  But if you think happy thoughts tonight and know you have my bracelet, you will be fine."  It seemed to work, but I'm guessing I will have company in the wee hours.

 Tori's making progress on the potty.  She's in pullups, but will always pee on the potty.  She always asks for a magazine when we ask her to try to poop.  She will just sit there, flipping through the pages.

It's the most wonderful chaos.

Just let me grab my purse.

 

That's what Tommy would say, if he could talk in sentences.

  He's been pretty happy to walk around the house sporting Dani's Hello Kitty purse lately.  It's pretty cute, and I actually think its cuter that there does not appear to be even the slightest sentiment among my children that there's anything odd about it--because, really, there isn't.  Dani and Tori don't really seem to identify anything of theirs as for girls, or of Tommy's as for boys.  Tori's as happy wearing a Spider Man shirt as she is Hello Kitty.  Tommy rocks the girls' hand-me-downs all the time.  Dani and Tori are just as likely to pretend they are Mario and Luigi as they are to play with their dress up dolls.  Tommy is as happy to chew on a Barbie leg as he is to chew on a toy car.

I think it's pretty cool. 

 

 This is the state they are usually in, however.  Running, chasing, shrieking and generally instigating each other into zaniness.  At any given time, one kid is acting silly enough to inspire the others to bounce off the walls.

 Inspired by one of my favorite nursery school toys, I picked up some building blocks last week.  Much to Big Man's dismay fatherly joy, they all required assembly. Strangely, Big Man kept referring to them as recyclables.

 We could not build them fast enough.

If you need me, I'll be in my castle.

With a love like that, you know you should be GLAD!

It's full-on Beatlemania in our house.  Well, for the toddlers.  Big Man's been playing a lot of the Beatles for Dani and Tori.  And Dani wants to torture me is happily singing the songs.  It's pretty adorable to here her version of things.  Like, "It's been a hard day and night, and I've been working like a dog."  It's really pretty cute.  And, she's Paul, Tori's Ringo, Big Man is George, and I'm John, apparently.  Tommy, he's Pete Best or something, but he can hum the tunes too.

 It's been a week of interesting Dani-isms.

Tonight was the one that made me realize that my daughter knows how to completely maniuplate me I've been working a bit too much, "Mommy, I had a bad dream last night.  You went to work and never came home again.  Ever. It was really scary."

 The other night we were watching a bedtime show, and Dani informs me, "Mommy, that's a Sphynx.  Those are with the pyramids in Egypt."  After I scooped my jaw off of the floor, I gave her a hug and told her she was a smart little girl.  She replied, "I'm smart, because I have a smart family."

She's been really into letting us know just how smart she is lately.   Two nights ago at dinner, she asked me about people who hunt cavemen, and whether they would hunt us too.  After a brief explanation of there being no cavemen presently, she tells me, "Mommy, I'm smart.  I know everything.  Well, maybe not everything.  But a lot."

 

We took a potty break where I was informed that, "Mommy, my poop is bigger than the universe."

 And later the same evening, when Dani was again professing her wisdom, I talked to her about it.  I told her that it was wonderful that she is so smart, but that she also needs to be humble.  That when she goes to pre-k in the fall, there will be kids who don't know how to say the alphabet, much less identify the letters and sounds, that some won't know their colors, that she will probably know more things than many of the other children.  We talked about how everyone has different skills, and knows different things, and that she needs to remember that everyone has to learn together, even if it means going a little more slowly than she would like to.  She replied, "Mommy, if they don't know things that I do, can I help teach them?" 

And we went to the park, and Tori and Tommy were adorable and all those good things too.  Tommy can now climb up and down the stairs (and my lower back thanks him for that).  Tori is flirting with being potty trained, and all is well.

I went for an annual physical, and to my surprise, I'm doing okay.  Like off the charts good.  Literally, when the doc was reviewing my blood work, he was commenting that it's incredibly rare to have the good cholesterol number higher than the bad (which mine was, with a rockin' low 144 total cholesterol) and that the labs were great.  My blood pressure is amazing, and apparently I'm going to live another year.  Literally he was so nice about it--I was like, hey doc, do you think they mixed up the vials?  I'm glad to know I'm so healthy for being a fat sedentary slug.  I asked him if that meant I could grab a whopper on the way back to work, and he said it was fine.  I'm guessing that somewhere, some poor, fit soul, is being told by their doc that they have the cholesterol and organ function of a nearly 40, overweight, overstressed mom of 3.

They say its your birthday.

Last week was Big Man's birthday...he's on the other side of 40, barely.  He was born in Bethany Hospital in Chicago in 1972, and in 1991, as a sophomore at the University of Chicago, he met a Bethany who he would eventually marry, and he would share a birthday with her mother.  Sometimes the universe sends you hints that you were meant to be together.  Those are the signs.

But back to the celebration.  We had presents, and party hats and cake (that Big Man baked).   Before you yell at me--I was totally going to bake, but he had the day off, and did it while I was at work.

Even Big Man rocked the Mickey ears.

 Dani, asking over and over, is it time for cake yet?

 We had Giordano's pizza (from Chicago) for dinner, and I had gotten out some veggies.  Tori ate a dozen or so baby carrots, and then dumped the rest of the bag on her plate.  When it was time for cake, she would nibble a carrot and have some cake and proclaim "carrot cake".

As I mentioned, my Mom's birthday is the same day as Big Man's.  We called her in the morning before she left for work, so the kids could sing to her.  After a rowdy rendition of "Happy Birthday" Dani and Tori were chatting with Grandma on speakerphone.  I asked Dani, "Dani, do you know how old Grandma is today?".  Dani's reply, "Hmmm, I think she's one hundred."



So big-a-big!

Dani has always been insistent that she wants her hair to be like Mommy's.  For about the past year or so, we've been taking her to have her hair professionally relaxed, but it is still so curly.  The relaxing makes it managable for day-to-day, and means fewer tears while we comb and style haphazardly put it into a hair tie or two.

The day we go to the salon, she gets a blow out, and looks just so grown up.  This weekend we did layers, and, except for the bangs (which she begged for) she actually looks like Mommy!

 Everyone at the salon was amazed at her ability to sit still.  She LOVED the dryer chair, and was just as polite as can be.  Tori, who carried on the last time we took her, had insisted that she did not want to go.  That was until we were leaving, at which time she insisted that she needed to go.  She screamed at the top of her lungs as I got Dani's shoes and coat on.  Then she sat at the picture window as I loaded Dani into my car, wailing at the top of her lungs.

On the way home, we stopped and got her some puzzles.

 Tommy had his 18 month baby visit last week--he weighs 31 pounds and is off the charts.  I don't think Dani weighed that much until about age 3.  Thank God he can climb the stairs.  Wes and I may need rotator cuff surgery if he isn't potty trained soon--lifting the little dude's legs to change him is a killer.

 Dani was happy to pose with me post-haircut.

 Tori and Tommy have made a game of chasing each other around the living room pillars.

In other funny kid things....

Tori has taken to nibbling everything she eats.  The simplest little goldfish cracker must be nibbled.  Last night at dinner, Big Man had grilled some burgers, and we were enjoying them with some salad and tater tots.  I look over at Tori towards the end of dinner, and she is hunched over, holding a tater tot with both hands, nibbling on it.  I motion to Big Man--he says, "Tori, you're not a mouse." 

Tori's reponse was to look up and say, "Squeak, squeak, I AM a mouse."

In the car the other morning, Dani told me, "Mommy, I wish I had two daddies."  When I asked her why, she responded, "So I could get twice as many hugs."